The Haig Club
by incendioctober
Summary: Takes place after 4x22 World's End, assuming they hadn't all just been taken custody. In fact, they're all back at base and it's been a few days since they defeated AIDA. Life is starting to go back to normal. Rated M for smut, of course. Reviews would be appreciated - it's my first Philinda story!


"I brought the Haig, now you have to hold up your end of the deal."

Phil Coulson had been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed he had company until that company slammed a heavy glass bottle onto the table in front of him. He didn't need to look up to know who was watching him expectantly, but that isn't why he didn't. He didn't look up because he couldn't look Melinda May in the eye. Although he was relieved that AIDA was dead and the Darkhold was back whence it came, he'd quietly hoped the war could have gone on just a little bit longer so he wouldn't have to face her just yet. Coulson knew war, he could _do_ war. The looming conversation with May was a whole lot scarier than any of that.

He had so much to explain, he didn't even know where to start. Why he had drunk the Haig? Why it had taken him so long to notice that she was a robot? Almost worst of all, how had he eventually come to realise that none of it was real? He let out a heavy sigh. His head was swimming but he knew he owed her this much; he'd been avoiding her for days. If she wanted to have this conversation now – and Melinda May was not an easy woman to dissuade from anything she had her mind set on – then he would definitely need that Haig.

Only then did he look up, aware that his overriding expression was one of defeat, and nod in the direction of the bar stool across the table from him. Without waiting for her to sit down, he pushed his on stool back with his knees and walked the few steps to the kitchen cabinets behind him. It took him far longer than it should have to reach for the two cut crystal whiskey tumblers on the top shelf because he was steeling himself to meet the gaze he could feel piercing between his shoulder blades. The kitchen was lit only by the dull hanging lights above the table he just left but when he found the courage to turn back around he couldn't miss the steely determination in her eyes. With resignation he retook his seat opposite her and pushed one of the glasses in her direction, before un-stoppering the bottle and watching the amber liquid fall into her glass. "What do you want to know?"

"Start from the beginning, we've got time. At least you had the decency to leave most of the bottle for us to get through."

It hadn't escaped him that rather than a new one, she'd brought the already opened bottle. She wasn't going to let that go easily. She was _really_ pissed.

Lazily picking up her tumbler between her thumb and middle finger, May brought it to her lips and let the first sweet burn hit the back of her throat. All she could see was Coulson's hairline, not his eyes – both of his hands were cupped around his on glass, into which he was staring intently, as if hoping the whiskey would give him the answers she wanted. In all their time at S.H.I.E.L.D. she had never seen him so awkward, and that was saying something. "Come on Phil, I can take it. Whatever I did can't be worse than who I was in there. And I promise not to be offended by whatever reason it took you so long to realise that it wasn't actually me." Her raised eyebrow dropped and there was a small change in her tone – a shift from defiance and bravado to something more real and encouraging. "Our friendship has survived worse than this. You died on me, remember?"

With that he couldn't help but chuckle, taking a swig of his drink and finally meeting her eyes whilst shaking his head, amused. "Trust me, by the time I'm done you'll be glad I didn't die on you because this way you can kill me yourself." Before she could respond he rushed on, acutely aware that if he stopped talking he would find it much harder to start again, but again dropped his gaze. "I should have known it wasn't you sooner. I knew you were acting out of character, but I guess I didn't want to believe it. I saw what I wanted to see."

May furrowed her brow and simply stared at him incredulously. She was not a patient woman at the best of times, and even less so when she'd been waiting days for answers. She knocked back the remainder of the amber liquid as an alternative to raising her tone, and took a second to ensure she was speaking calmly. "Don't speak in riddles; remember I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. For all I know I could have tried to kill everyone in this place, including you. So please try and make at least some sense?"

"You were warm." Coulson stammered and attempted to back track as soon as it left his lips. He looked up at her in panic, searching for a way to justify his statement. "I mean you were more open. We got closer. I saw the May from before Bahrain… Before Andrew even…" By the time the final three words left his lips he'd turned his head away from her completely so they were muffled, almost unintelligible, and he sincerely hoped she hadn't caught them, because he was now cursing under his breath.

He had no such luck.

"Before Andrew…?" Bahrain had changed her, she got that. It aged her far beyond her years and she was never the same, the guilt was all-consuming. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard hundreds – probably thousands – of times before. So, this life model decoy was able to put the guilt aside in a way that she wasn't, and function as though she hadn't murdered a child. That wasn't a surprise; after all, what could a machine possibly know about regret, and pain, and questioning the very thing you spent your life striving to be? Although for a moment May found herself envious – envious of a version of her that could compartmentalise her life and forgive herself – that wasn't the part of Phil's admission that surprised her the most. A long time ago she'd found peace with never being the same woman she was before Bahrain. But Andrew…? What had Andrew possibly done to change her?

"That wasn't what I…"

She didn't even let him finish. "Cut the bullshit Phil, what do you mean 'before Andrew'…?"

He didn't know what made him say it. He hadn't even noticed that his tumbler had been refilled and he'd thrown down a full glass of whiskey before he spoke. "We were flirting, okay? Before you met Andrew, I told you I'd take you out if your next random civilian didn't work out. Unfortunately for me, you married him." The burning in his throat meant he had to take a second, but instead of looking at her he just poured himself another healthy glass of Haig and adding a generous top-up to hers. If he looked at her he'd never have the courage to keep talking – and she wanted the truth. "So we were flirting. You suggested finally opening the Haig. I agreed, because somehow I thought Melinda May flirting with me might be just slightly more likely than her having been replaced by a very, _very_ convincing robot. Obviously, I was wrong." At the last sentence he couldn't help but let a small laugh ghost across his lips. Now he said it out loud it was abundantly clear. Melinda May flirting with him with any kind of sincerity was actually way _less_ likely than her being replaced by a robot. It was obvious now. Clearly at the time he as thinking with something other than his head.

It wasn't often May was speechless – she wasn't sure if it was what he said, or the blunt way in which he said it, but it certainly hadn't been what she was expecting to hear. Tales of destruction and fights and assassination attempts, yes – although come to think of it, she had wondered how any of them could have over-powered her in a fight if she really had tried to kill them – but not this. This was almost worst. In fact, this _was_ worse. If she'd killed anyone, then at least everyone would know that was the robot talking, not her. This was way more complicated. It wasn't even something she could be mad at him for. It was her turn to drain her glass for some Dutch courage, and only when crystal hit the stone counter did she speak, doing an award-winning job of deflecting in the only way she knew how. "Dare I ask how you finally realised it wasn't me?"

Phil very nearly spat out his drink, but swallowed just in time, grateful for every drop of alcohol that was beginning to dull the reality of the conversation. Though he was eternally grateful that her reaction wasn't to be embarrassed, or furious, or anything as equally difficult to deal with but he couldn't quite believe this was the way she'd chosen to react either. He cleared his throat and couldn't stifle a smirk. "We didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, see that would explain why you couldn't quite look at me; if you'd seen me naked." As she spoke she realised the alcohol was playing its part in her reaction too but in fact she was relieved. This conversation felt more normal than any they'd had since she woke up from that horrific simulation. Regardless of what he claimed, some light flirting was normal for them. Which begged the question… "So if it wasn't that, what was it? What gave it away?"

That was one detail he didn't mind sharing. "We kissed." He didn't even try to hide his smirk this time. "It was tender, and sweet, and meaningful. Not like you at all." Long ago he'd given up avoiding her eyes and this time when she caught them she saw the familiar mischievous twinkle in them. He was astounded that after what felt like months of awkwardness, it was so easy to fall back in to old habits. The alcohol was helping enormously with that of course.

If she'd had anything less destructive than a crystal tumbler or a glass bottle to hand to throw at him she would have. And the Haig in her glass was far too good to be wasted throwing over him. So instead she finished the amber liquid with much less of a burn than the first time she tasted it, and slipped off her stool, backing into the open area behind her, curling the toes of her bare feet into the rug as she stepped on to it. She then unzipped her thermal fleece and cast it aside, leaving her in a black camisole and black leggings. Putting her hands on her hips, she raised an eyebrow. "Come over here and say that, I dare you."

He raised both of his hands defensively and shook his head, but couldn't wipe the shit-eating grin from his face. "I'm not going to fight you May. I'm man enough to admit that I would lose hands down. Besides, I make it a rule never to fight women I've kissed." He had a feeling he would regret adding that last part, but he was having too much fun to care. He'd really missed this.

"And surely if we've kissed you can do the decency of calling me Melinda? You can't kiss a woman then remain on a surname basis with her, that's just impolite." May didn't move. She could read the situation well enough to know that he would come over to her eventually; he would miss her proximity. And if he wanted to play this game then she would sure as hell win. It wasn't in her nature to lose. Although she wasn't quite sure what winning meant in this particular game…

Sure enough, as if like magic, Coulson slipped off his stool and walked slowly towards her, his shoulders shrugged and palms facing up as if he were the epitome of innocence. "May suits you; it's mysterious, and badass, and blunt…" He trailed off with a yelp as he was caught off guard and she whisked his feet from underneath him with her foot.

If it hadn't been for the three straight glasses of whiskey she just had, she would have had no idea what made her say it. As it was, it was definitely the alcohol that made her say it. That and the fact she was once again feeling slightly envious of her robot-self in a way that she couldn't quite explain. The thought of him kissing a fake version of her just made something snap inside of her. She dipped so her lips were just above his right ear. "Melinda is way more fun to moan though…"

It was at that point they crossed an invisible line that they'd never crossed before. Years ago, they'd been close to crossing it but never quite made it. Under normal circumstances this would be a big deal, a pivotal moment in their friendship, relationship, whatever it had become. However, luckily for both of them, the alcohol dulled the deep significance of the shift in dynamic and instead all they felt was the bubbling pit of excitement that rises up as a teenager when you can still be bothered with foreplay. Instead of questioning what just happened, he groaned slightly and gratefully followed his instincts, lifting both hands to rest on her hips and bum and squeezing gently. "Do I need to check if you're real this time?"

"That depends; how did you expect me to kiss, if you knew instantly last time wasn't real?" She tossed her hair back and flashed him a confident grin, placing her hands on the rug either side of his head and bearing down on him so he could smell the sweet whiskey on her breath.

Her body felt so light and supple that a less wise man may have tried his luck at flipping her over and taking control of the situation, but Phil Coulson knew better than that. If he even made the slightest move to slip out from under her, her solid core would tense, her thighs would tighten in an iron grip around his waist and he was pretty sure his hands would be swatted from their current position to be pinned mercilessly above his head. Although that wouldn't be cause for complaint, he was quite enjoying feeling the curve of her bum in the palms of his hands and was sure he wouldn't be allowed this advantageous position for long so squeezed again appreciatively. "Oh I don't know, as cold and dark as your soul?"

His wicked grin did something to her insides, causing her to finally notice the pressure building up in her abdomen and she was beginning to wonder if she really was the one in control of this exchange. He was holding up far better than she expected – in fact, he looked infuriatingly composed. She shifted her weight back slightly from his stomach to his hips and was relieved when her bum met the bulge in his crotch – that was all the confirmation she needed to set her back on track, smirking in response to the contact. "From what I can feel you _like_ cold and dark and twisted apparently. If this is what I get for beating you in a fight, then I can only imagine how you reacted when kissed…" May paused for a second and then cocked her head with interest. "Who made the first move?" His face answered before he opened his mouth and it was her turn to grin triumphantly.

"You were staring at my lips! You were talking about 'what comes next'! And you had this hot scar on your left temple… What was I supposed to do?!" Memories clouded his senses as he remembered her lips on his, his hand in her hair…

"Are you actually fantasizing about me when I'm sitting on top of you?" She forced herself up from her position hovering over him and sat back, hands on hips and eyebrows raised.

He was snapped from his daydream by the loss of her body heat and he wracked his clouded brain – clouded from her intoxicating scent as well as the alcohol – for something to say to bring her closer again. It was becoming increasingly harder to concentrate on witty flirting as he began to notice more and more elegant details about her body; her real body that no life model decoy could ever have replicated. The muscle line in her bicep as she tensed to push up away from him. How even after three straight double measures of whiskey she had more control over her centre of gravity than anyone he'd ever seen. The way her collar bones perfectly framed her face above, and her breasts below… He was daydreaming again. Forcing himself to focus, he returned to defending his willingness to kiss her. "Besides, you never pass up the opportunity to remind me of that one time I didn't make my move, so I wanted to shut you up once and for all."

This time it was her who slipped into nostalgia; somehow remembering him fumbling awkwardly with her bra whilst undercover as her husband was much more of a turn on than when she usually fondly recalled that night. The fire licking at her abdomen and spreading throughout her body dragged her back to reality, and she hit back to distract from her momentary lapse in concentration. "And yet here you are again, not making your move. You're a coward Phil Coulson." The fire had spread upwards and was dancing behind her mischievous eyes.

Before his brain had even finished processing the decision he made, he summoned all his strength to – in one swift movement – drag himself into the sitting position and spin her flat onto her back. His stomach muscles were burning with effort but he'd expected much more resistance than he received; the only explanation he could fathom was that he'd caught her off guard, and that was not easy to do. Drunk on the power of getting under her skin (and under him), Coulson took a moment to appreciate the woman below him – hair splayed wildly on the rug, panting slightly to catch her breath to recover from the shock, arms resting limply above her head. This was not and image he'd be forgetting any time soon. He couldn't resist firing back her earlier quip. "Say that again, I dare you…"

"I don't need to." He should have known better than to hesitate – just as she should have known better than to let down her defences, but the alcohol had slowed her reactions – and so she took full advantage. Grabbing on to his thighs for leverage, she pulled herself from underneath him and jumped lightly to her feet. "I'm not the one with something to prove. Goodnight Phil." With a smirk, she snatched her fleece from the floor where she discarded it, threw it over her shoulder and left without looking back.

As soon as the glass-panelled door clicked shut behind her, May let out a breath she didn't even realise she'd been holding. Her heart was pounding in her chest as though she'd just finished a sprint and her skin was burning hot to match, as she wrapped her hands around her shoulders. It was nothing a cold shower wouldn't fix, but her mind would need way more than that to calm down.

It was instinct that made her stop. She had no problem with sex – it was healthy, she had needs and it certainly wasn't anything she played coy about. But this was different. It was a long time since she'd been intimate with anyone she actually cared about, and she hadn't quite expected this to move from friendship to intimacy quite so suddenly. Ward had been a companion of convenience more than anything else, and considering how that played out – the thought still made her gag a little – she had effectively abstained from sex for a while. Partly as a self-inflicted punishment for her own bad judgement, but also because it wasn't exactly easy to find a playmate when she spent 90% of her time in the field with the same group of 7 or so people. Apparently she was blind and the answer had been staring her in the face the whole time.

The days of flirting with Coulson – before Andrew, before Bahrain – felt like a lifetime ago; it almost felt like another woman entirely. The new woman wasn't sentimental about many things, but her friendship with him was a constant on which she'd always been able to rely, no matter what. And despite all the bravado she gave, the thought of screwing that up was enough to make her run scared from underneath him, literally. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ him, her body had made that clear half an hour ago – though she wasn't quite sure when she stopped seeing him as her slightly awkward but closest friend and instead as someone whose hands she _really_ enjoyed having on her. It was more that sex with feelings was messy, people get hurt, and after maybe 15 years of friendship it was impossible not to care, even for the 'Ice Queen' as Ward once called her.

Without even noticing she found herself back in her room with her head spinning from the developments of the last hour. Still on auto-pilot, she made her way towards her en-suite, shedding clothes and tossing them towards the bed as she went. Flicking on the shower, she stepped under the stream of water immediately letting the chill drench through her body and snap her out of her confused, slightly intoxicated and still aroused state before it reached the ideal steamy temperature. The water pummelling between her shoulder blades was sobering and she allowed it to beat some of the tension from her neck before shutting it off and reaching for a plain white towel to tousle dry her hair and wrap around herself. As she stepped out of the bathroom she got such a shock that it was lucky she didn't drop the towel she held around her.

"Phil, what the hell?!"

Coulson was perched casually on the edge of her bed leaning on his knees, hands wringing together and, having heard the shower running, his gaze was fixed directly on the bathroom door, so now on her. Somehow that shit-eating grin was back, though that might have had something to do with her being in nothing but a towel, her hair still damp and hanging elegantly at her shoulders. "I never took you for someone to leave your door unlocked but I had to try; it's almost like you were expecting me..." His smirk was infuriating.

Hours a day of physical training meant May was confident in her body and in any ordinary encounter she wouldn't be shy, but for some reason she felt vulnerable and disadvantaged with only the course white fabric covering her and she sincerely hoped the blush she felt rising up her body wasn't noticeable on her skin. He was right – leaving the door open wasn't like her, but she'd been so flustered and distracted when she entered the room that she headed straight for the shower. She tucked the corner of the towel under its own tight wrap so she wasn't solely relying on her grip to maintain her modesty and spoke with indignation, desperately trying to hide how off balance he'd thrown her by just showing up. "That doesn't explain why you're in my room! You didn't even knock, I could have been naked!"

"I kinda hoped you might be…" His eyes were unmistakably twinkling as he watched her squirm with discomfort – he knew she couldn't stand being out of control of a situation and right now he definitely held the upper hand. He just had to keep ignoring the periodic droplets of water sliding from her wet hair down her shoulders, some slipping down her cleavage and under the towel. That was definitely distracting… He shook his head to dislodge the daydream and instead bore his eyes into hers as he stood up from her bed. "You said I had something to prove. Well I'm here to prove it."

Her entire body was on fire as he moved towards her – she was still hot from the steaming water but the adrenalin coursing through her blood wasn't allowing her to cool down. She wanted to growl a defiant response but she couldn't find the words – her stomach was taut with fear and butterflies and her throat was suddenly very dry. All she could do was watch, as he walked slowly closer over the soft carpeted floor, and try desperately to regain some feeling in her limbs, send blood to her brain to make it work again, but she had a horrible suspicion it was futile as her blood was rapidly rushing elsewhere.

As he approached he noticed she almost looked paralysed, but he knew right now was not the moment to point out a vulnerability he never even knew existed – in fact, he had firmly believed she didn't have any – so he bit his tongue. Instead, he took a softer approach as he came to a stop in front of her, only a foot of space between them. "If there's anything I learned from the Framework, it's that life can change in an instant. One different decision and we might not be here, we might not have been on the same side, or met at all. One thing or another is trying to kill us almost every day in this job and life is too short – I learned that one from Captain America." He couldn't resist his trademark goofy, geeky grin but stumbled on before she could stop him. "This is what we have – after all these years we've almost come full circle. Me and you, still here, after all of it. I don't want to waste it. You're not going to be my Peggy Carter." He couldn't help himself and he had to swallow his laughter at his own joke, making do with an innocent smile instead.

It was a good job she'd fixed the towel to hold itself up because instinctively she let go of it and smacked him on the arm for making another Captain America reference. One she could forgive – his fascination with the Avengers was endearing – but two was too far. "You had to ruin it, didn't you? You were just starting to thaw my cold, cold heart and then you bring up the guy who was frozen in ice for 67 years. Surely you learnt as a boy that geeky superhero references don't often make a woman want to sleep with you..." Her deflecting from any sort of emotional conversation was second to none, but in all her chastising, she couldn't keep the amused smile off her face.

"Despite that, you still know how long he was frozen for..." He couldn't resist the last dig but didn't want to push his luck as she'd already left him hanging once that night; he was more than sure she'd do it again. To distract from his comment he put his hands on her hips and walked her backwards until she bumped the ornate, mahogany chest of drawers which was almost as tall as she was. He then leant in, his voice husky and firm. "For the record, I never expected kissing you to be tender, or sweet. I expected fire and passion and explosions. You're not going to disappoint me, are you?"

Usually she would fight it, battle to hold out the longest. Fight to win. But this time May saw no shame in losing to him because despite the ridiculous references, he'd put himself out there, so it was time she gave him a piece of herself. Her pride. Without a word she leant forward and crashed her lips forcefully to his before she could dwell on the gravity of how their world was about to change. She was still heady from the combination of the whiskey and the steam, but as she placed her palms flat on Coulson's chest and began to force him backwards towards the bed, there was a liquid heat pooling and bubbling fiercely at her centre. Her earlier apprehension was forgotten; if it was no longer a question of _if_ this was going to happen but _how_ , she was definitely back in her comfort zone. This was something she knew how to do, and she knew he'd like it.

It wasn't just his knees hitting the end of the bed that almost caused him to lose his balance and fall back into the sheets, taking her with him. Her kiss set off fireworks throughout his body as nerve ends exploded that he didn't even know he had, knocking the wind out of him completely. He'd never doubted for a second that she'd be a handful, but he was only just beginning to realise what he'd let himself in for. Melinda May was a force to be reckoned with in life, so in bed surely he didn't stand a chance. Though rather than make him nervous, the bulge in his trousers only grew in approval of the thought. His hands gripped her hips hard as he kissed fiercely, only frustrating him further as the thick towel disguised the curve of her body underneath and he let out a quiet but clearly dissatisfied growl in response.

The sound vibrating against her lips made her grin against his and pull away slightly, cocking her head to one side with a confident grin. She pushed him backwards and he scrambled up the bed; she climbed on elegantly to join him, taking full advantage of his hungry eyes willing her closer. "I'm going to assume I didn't disappoint, so what seems to be the problem?"

"The towel…"

Although she was decidedly starting to get sick of the towel herself – it restricted her movement and made gracefully straddling him very difficult – she wasn't about to let him have her that easily. As she settled on his hips, remarkably similar to their earlier position only she was in distinctly less clothing, she began unbuttoning his shirt to even the score. "Oh so now you're impatient? You waited years, a little longer isn't going to kill you…"

That's how she wanted to do this, was it? If May had asked he would have begged – he was putty in her hands, and all sense was rapidly draining from his brain to his crotch – it seemed she wanted to play with her food first. He didn't know why he was surprised and she had a way of making him as defiant as he was aroused, so he wasn't about to go down (possibly literally) without a fight. As she pushed his shirt deftly off his shoulders and leant down to resume kissing him, he grabbed the backs of her bare thighs to push her towards him. His fingers splayed over her inner thighs as he edged them slightly above the bottom of the hanging towel and the movement elicited the perfect reaction from her, although she did her best to stifle it. He dodged her lips and pressed his directly against the pulse point in her neck, humming deeply against her skin. "It might kill you though…"

It was as though someone had sent a volts of electricity through her body from that one small area as he kissed her neck, and it became abundantly clear that May was not as in control of this tryst as she'd taken for granted. Her involuntary moan from his hands cupping her thighs was only the half of it – the pressure at her core was almost unbearable and the coarse fabric rubbing against her straining chest with every breath reminded her just how long it had been since she'd been touched. As another moan rose in her throat and slipped out of her mouth, virtually as confirmation of his almost-threat, she grabbed his chin and dragged him back towards her lips – partially to shut herself up, and partially because he was doing far too good a job on her neck. He tasted of good whiskey and warmth and she nipped at his lips before lavishing them with her tongue in the hope of distracting him from her hands undoing his belt and dragging his trousers down his legs.

Her deft hands anywhere near his crotch was something Phil couldn't be distracted from no matter how fiercely she kissed him, and once she could reach no further he took it upon himself to kick the trousers down the remainder of his legs, losing his socks with them. Although they were now at similar stages of undress, he felt distinctly disadvantaged with her on top and his arousal painfully obvious, so he decided now it was time to level the playing field and began fighting with the towel, all the while refusing to break the steamy kiss.

Only then did she swat away his hands and sit back, allowing him to follow her slightly and rest up off the bed on his elbows. She was more nervous than she'd expected as she untucked the towel and discarded it by the bed with apparent confidence, but his reaction was more than enough to turn that into real confidence.

"Holy fuck Melinda…" His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, stunned into temporary silence as he took in her body – the perfectly defined muscles, the smooth, tanned skin, the strength and heat radiating from her, the dark, damp hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"Oh so this is when you stop calling me May…?" She asked with a cocky smirk, resting her hands on her hips. "Finally, because you're definitely not my boss in…" Cut off by her own gasp, her jaw dropped in surprise and her head fell back in unmistakeable pleasure.

Her naked body had brought out something primal in him and he couldn't listen to her smart comments anymore, he just wanted to hear her moan and lose every bit of control she thought she had. After only a moment of hesitation to take in the sight in front of him, he had pushed himself up off his elbows into the sitting position and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping his head to catch her nipple in his mouth and succeeding in shutting her up. She was most definitely right, he wasn't her boss in bed but he felt an irrepressible desire to prove that she wasn't his boss either – he would drive her just as crazy as she could him. He tightened his hold around her waist which encouraged her to wrap her legs around his back, as he continued to lavish attention on to her right breast, his hand kneading the left side.

Knowing she deserved that, she took her punishment gracefully and without complaint. In fact, she grabbed hard onto his thighs until her knuckles went white to steady herself and moaned appreciatively, even groaning with frustration slightly at the loss of contact when he switched sides. She quietly enjoyed that he wasn't going to take any of her cocky bullshit and he wasn't afraid to take control – in fact, it was a huge turn on. Too many men she'd been with in the past had let her run the show and never challenged her power. As he nipped and sucked, she couldn't help but toss her head back, breathing heavily and press her core into him, keening for any sort of contact – friction or pressure – as the tension from his touch began to take over her whole body. "God Phil…"

His name moaned from her lips was without a doubt the sexiest thing he had ever heard and his bulge as now throbbing as it was pressed against the small of her back. He bit down slightly in response, his head swimming as he could feel her centre flush against his stomach, just how turned on she was, and he made his decision in an instant. Lifting his head from her breast, he rolled her over, threw her down onto her back, unhooked her legs from behind him and began kissing down her wonderfully toned stomach. He could feel her strong muscles twitching under every press of his lips and he traced a pattern down her torso with his tongue, down past her navel. Before he could go any further, he felt her hands tangle in his hair and tug slightly, causing him to pause his descent and look up.

"You've already proved whatever you had to prove, you know…" As much as the thought of his mouth all over her was exactly what she wanted right now, she felt it was polite to object to something that felt quite selfish for the first time.

"Take this as an apology for opening the Haig without you. That and I just really want to fuck you, because I really want to hear you say my name again…" That and he knew if she as much as touched him right now he wouldn't last long, so he definitely wanted to make the most of her first…

One thing Melinda May never expected was to hear Phillip J. Coulson talking dirty to her, whilst looking up from between her legs with that sexy, boyish grin on his face and very tousled hair. And damn it was hot. She loosened her hands in his hair and grinned excitedly at him. "You better get to work then; you've got a lot of apologising to do before I think about forgiving you…" She instead reached behind and grabbed on to the headboard – bracing herself for what she was about to feel. He knew fine well he'd apologised enough already, but she sure as hell wasn't complaining.

That was all he needed and he immediately settled comfortably between her legs, peppering her thighs with kisses and taking in her heady scent – much sweeter than the whiskey. He couldn't help but lick his lips and marvel at the sight before him, before running his tongue over her and delighting in her taste and her audible reaction.

Instantly she grabbed a cushion and covered her face, knowing she would likely need it to bite down on or muffle her moans, but she felt his warm breath pull back from her slightly and she dropped it, only to look down at him questioningly.

"Don't hide your face – I want to see you, I want to hear you…" As if to prove his point, he swiftly flicked his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves without taking his eyes from hers.

Her mouth dropped open and she moaned again, shaking her head fervently as she caught her breath. "I'll wake the whole base…"

"And every time after this we'll keep you quiet. But they should all be asleep by now and I suspect this is the closest thing to actual privacy we're going to get for a while, so unless you want to go out on a limb and book us a hotel room where no one we know will hear you scream, then let me have this time, please? Besides, I'm going to need _something_ interesting to picture when I'm looking over at you in particularly boring briefings…" He couldn't take the huge grin off his face – the _only_ way he was getting away with this is because he was currently between her legs.

He had her at 'every time after this'. That and she definitely couldn't argue with him fantasizing about fucking her whilst in team briefings – that could turn out to be very fun for her… She dropped her head back to the pillow with what she hoped was a reluctant sigh and tossed the cushion aside. "Fine, but if anyone hears us…"

"They'll think I'm incredibly lucky man..." Before she had the chance to refute that, he dipped his head back towards her and buried his tongue inside her, eliciting exactly the moan he'd wanted to hear. As he traced a path up her folds, he helped her slip her legs tightly over his shoulders and he grabbed onto her hips for leverage. Once he reached her clit, he explored the hot, wet flesh and the tip of tongue found exactly what he was looking for.

"Fuck, Phil…"

His name and the bucking of her hips only spurred him on more as he began to make steady, rhythmic movements with his tongue and she began to push out to meet his pace. He'd made a conscious decision not to speed up too quickly because he definitely didn't want this to end any time soon, but before long he didn't have a choice, as her hips began to roll faster and he quickened to meet her needs. Her taste was exquisite and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I'm close, I'm gonna…"

Fuck, maybe that was as close to begging as Melinda May ever got so he eagerly pushed on, chasing her release to try and distract from the fact that he thought he was going to burst from sheer arousal. Suddenly her iron thighs clamped around his head but he wouldn't have moved even if he could, and she began to pant and moan consistently louder, her back arching as he could feel her muscles convulsing under his lips.

"Phil, oh God, Phil…" It was like a mantra on repeat.

And then it was over. Her legs went limp and her body dropped the inch or so it had risen back to the bed. Her breathing was heavy and she had a sheen of sweat glistening over her bare skin as he crawled up the bed beside her. He propped himself up on his elbow, hand behind his ear, unable to take his eyes off her elegant body as she basked in the afterglow. Her eyes began to flutter open as her breathing slowed and she rolled her head to look for him, search out his own eyes.

"How was that for an apology…?" Somehow he felt he got off lightly – no one should enjoy apologising as much as he just had and he couldn't wipe the satisfied smile off his face.

"Mmmm, I'd say 6 out of 10; good effort, but room for improvement…?" Luckily there was a recognisable mischievous glint in her bleary eyes and the effort it took for her to speak begged to differ. Once she blinked away the post-sex haze, she broke out in a smug grin and rolled from her back to face him, placing a hand on his chest. "How was that for some good fantasy material…?"

"I might have to agree… 6 out of 10; could scream louder…?" However, as soon as he said it he knew he'd called his own bluff and rather than backtrack to tell her how amazing she was, he moulded a hand to her waist and pulled her in for a kiss – the first tender one they'd had.

The taste of herself on his lips as doing nothing for her own state of composure – whilst trying to come down from her first high, she definitely didn't need the rush of desire it gave her. However, she gratefully took the opportunity to explore his kiss without the urgency. He'd been right about one thing – it wasn't often she kissed tenderly, but here was someone she'd actually felt some sort of affection for before they'd had sex, affection which had only multiplied after their intimacy. As they broke away gently, her smile immediately returned. "If I'd screamed any louder the entire base would have known what you were doing to me…"

He slid his hand from her waist to the curve of her bum and pulled her body against his, missing her heat. He leaned in for another kiss and spoke as hips lips hovered by her ear. "I don't really mind that…"

Playfully pushing him away, she shook her head. "Oh no, no no no. You're going to have to keep this up for a lot longer than one night if you want to boast about what we get up to… I am _not_ being the gossip of this base. Let the kids have their rumour mill and we can actually behave like adults – can you manage that?" Even as she raised her eyebrow, she realised what she'd said. And the look on his face told her immediately that she hadn't got away with it.

"So you want this to happen again, do you? Melinda May, you old romantic. If I'd known all it would take to melt that cold heart was going down on you…" Of course it didn't matter that he'd said it during sex, you can say whatever you want during sex. She said it for real. And of course it definitely didn't matter that that was exactly what he wanted too, and they both knew it. He enjoyed teasing her far too much.

"Don't say you would have done it years ago because you definitely wouldn't have. You never had the guts." Melinda was just grateful for an out where they didn't have to dwell on her admission, and delighted on turning the tables on him. "In fact, I'm surprised you had the guts even now. At one point you did look like I was going to eat you alive…"

"Well, I mean, at times you do remind me of Romanoff…" Phil laughed at his own jokes at the best of times but he was particularly proud of that one. He knew an Avengers reference – however true – would infuriate her, and it had the added bonus of comparing her to a spider that is famous for devouring her male partners after sex.

"You piece of shit…" With that, she pushed him onto his back and began to drag his still bursting boxers down his legs. As she straddled his thighs, she smirked smugly. "Come to think of it, you've only apologised for opening the bottle of Haig. You're yet to apologise for not realising I was a robot, or in fact for _kissing_ that robot. And I think I've just decided how you can start apologising…"


End file.
